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I've not updated properly all this month. I've been feeling rather lethargic and bleurgh a lot of the time, not really sure why, although large amounts of work stress probably has a lot to do with it (I actually ended up working on a Saturday. Only the one, but considering how much I resent working any form of overtime, let alone weekends, this is a fairly good marker of how busy things have been).
Which isn't to say that there hasn't been fun stuff. Last weekend saw my first visit to Manchester in, I think, 13 years (which, seeing as Liverpool is less than an hour away by most forms of transport, is pretty poor of me) in the company of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
whomenonotme and her hubby. And while it was more than a little soggy, and a couple of the city's less savoury residents were in evidence (nothing like a little drunken abuse to make you feel welcome ...) I had a lovely time. Good food (veggie Chinese that didn't bore me - very much a rarity)and lovely company + Lush and clothes = happy me :) (note to self - must actually buy boy clothes some time this year, before mine all fall apart ...) .
And the weekend before that, Boz was up from the big smoke. She, Dave and I tootled to the rather unpromisingly named Hotel California, which, it turned out, was a pretty good rock club. And there was a Queen tribute band. Tacky but great fun.
I was, however, not in the mood to be out, for no particularly good reason. And I'm not good at faking it, to be honest, so I just end up seeming sullen and moody. The others thought I just didn't like the place, which was by no means the case - loud, thumpy music and lots of dodgy rockers, what's not to like? And yet, I still had a less than good time and I don't know why.
Oh well, I've given up on trying to understand the vagaries of my moods. But I felt bad that I was this little black cloud raining on their parade.
But Sunday was nice. I'd not seen Dave and Tracy for months, and it's been a year since I met up with Boz in London (she's mostly been in Nepal since then), so there was lots of catching up to be done.
And other highlights:-
Having been a fan since I was 17, I finally met Storm Constantine. Given that, after Mervyn Peake (unlikely to be meeting him any time soon) and Tanith Lee (more likely, but not that much), she's the author who's had possibly the biggest effect on me (those of you who are in any way familiar with some of her themes will understand why) this is a huge deal. Of course, I was so afraid that I'd descend into drooling fanboy-dom that I spent the entire conversation talking about things and people that were not her or her books and, I'm sure, came off seeming entirely unappreciative and not at all bothered. She was sweet and friendly and charming, and I'm certain that I gave her no clue at all how much it meant to me to meet her. Ho hum. Go me :(.
Midian that night was, again, agonisingly hot and I felt more than a little ill. I arrived at 11ish and left before 1, but I'm glad I went. Amusingly, I ran into, as we affectionately call him, Pompous Richard (a lovely guy, but he makes me feel like I'm 15) - amusing because he's only ever seen me in boy clothes before and his double-take was rather priceless. Bless him, he recovered very quickly. Only when I said that the dress was a result of Cosi's wardrobe purge did he mention anything, and that was just to say it looked good. Awwww, sweet :).
And, finally, having started it in, as far as I remember, 1999 and stopped reading because I found it so depressing, and having taken about 2 months (at least) over my second attempt, I finished The Gods Are Thirsty (hence the subject line, Thermidor being the month of the French Revolutionary calendar that most closely equates with August (well July 20th to August 18th actually). The following is not really a review, but it's cut for spoilers anyway ...
( Oo look, blood. Lots of blood ... )
Which isn't to say that there hasn't been fun stuff. Last weekend saw my first visit to Manchester in, I think, 13 years (which, seeing as Liverpool is less than an hour away by most forms of transport, is pretty poor of me) in the company of
whomenonotme and her hubby. And while it was more than a little soggy, and a couple of the city's less savoury residents were in evidence (nothing like a little drunken abuse to make you feel welcome ...) I had a lovely time. Good food (veggie Chinese that didn't bore me - very much a rarity)and lovely company + Lush and clothes = happy me :) (note to self - must actually buy boy clothes some time this year, before mine all fall apart ...) .And the weekend before that, Boz was up from the big smoke. She, Dave and I tootled to the rather unpromisingly named Hotel California, which, it turned out, was a pretty good rock club. And there was a Queen tribute band. Tacky but great fun.
I was, however, not in the mood to be out, for no particularly good reason. And I'm not good at faking it, to be honest, so I just end up seeming sullen and moody. The others thought I just didn't like the place, which was by no means the case - loud, thumpy music and lots of dodgy rockers, what's not to like? And yet, I still had a less than good time and I don't know why.
Oh well, I've given up on trying to understand the vagaries of my moods. But I felt bad that I was this little black cloud raining on their parade.
But Sunday was nice. I'd not seen Dave and Tracy for months, and it's been a year since I met up with Boz in London (she's mostly been in Nepal since then), so there was lots of catching up to be done.
And other highlights:-
Having been a fan since I was 17, I finally met Storm Constantine. Given that, after Mervyn Peake (unlikely to be meeting him any time soon) and Tanith Lee (more likely, but not that much), she's the author who's had possibly the biggest effect on me (those of you who are in any way familiar with some of her themes will understand why) this is a huge deal. Of course, I was so afraid that I'd descend into drooling fanboy-dom that I spent the entire conversation talking about things and people that were not her or her books and, I'm sure, came off seeming entirely unappreciative and not at all bothered. She was sweet and friendly and charming, and I'm certain that I gave her no clue at all how much it meant to me to meet her. Ho hum. Go me :(.
Midian that night was, again, agonisingly hot and I felt more than a little ill. I arrived at 11ish and left before 1, but I'm glad I went. Amusingly, I ran into, as we affectionately call him, Pompous Richard (a lovely guy, but he makes me feel like I'm 15) - amusing because he's only ever seen me in boy clothes before and his double-take was rather priceless. Bless him, he recovered very quickly. Only when I said that the dress was a result of Cosi's wardrobe purge did he mention anything, and that was just to say it looked good. Awwww, sweet :).
And, finally, having started it in, as far as I remember, 1999 and stopped reading because I found it so depressing, and having taken about 2 months (at least) over my second attempt, I finished The Gods Are Thirsty (hence the subject line, Thermidor being the month of the French Revolutionary calendar that most closely equates with August (well July 20th to August 18th actually). The following is not really a review, but it's cut for spoilers anyway ...
( Oo look, blood. Lots of blood ... )
